All Is Fair After The Fall
by Chase The Dream
Summary: After a pandemic known as "The Fall" leaves the world in panicked ruins, Arthur Kirkland has had to learn how to survive. Working as a bounty hunter, a trip for burn salve leads him to Francis Bonnefoy. Kidnapped and left for dead, Francis offers Arthur money in exchange for safe passage. But Arthur soon fears Francis may steal his life and his heart.
1. Chapter 1

The weather below the southern border this time of year was hot and dry. The sun stung your eyes if you didn't wear a hat and it was inevitable you were going to die in less than three days without water. There was a town, one of few, still left in that part of the world. It was small and had few travelers through, but it was as close to an oasis you could get. And on a small corner under the shade of trident maples an old convenience store still lived on. It was small, with flaking grey paint that covered sparse spots of worn ruddy brick. A neon "OPEN" sign still flickered persistently in the dark windows.

Arthur squinted against the light as he hopped over a familiar crack in the cement curb. He pushed open the door and only noted how hot the metal push bar was. Inside the air was slightly less horrid. The buzzing of an old air conditioner confirmed that while, technically, the room was cool, the slight humidity still clung to your skin wetly. The old yellow florescent lighting was bright during the day like this, but at night left an eerie muted sepia tone to even the most vibrant of colors. Old metal shelves held arrays of metal and glass bottles, jars, and tins of every sort imaginable, along with a myriad of dried and live plants. Arthur could just barely remember when shelves just like those would hold bags of cheese flavored snacks and plastic bottles filled with dark or neon sugar-filled liquid. Just barely though. That was forever ago it seemed.

Several people were in the shop, meandering around and looking at this or that bottle. A young girl on a step ladder was hanging herbs from a lattice on the ceiling. She was taller than last time Arthur was there. Her hair was still in long dark pigtails and she still wore that sky blue dress. Arthur never got her name. The girl rarely talked but often made excited gestures and sounds, and had a habit of rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet.

"Arthur! Did you get shot again?" A deep voice laughed heartily.

Arthur smirked and turned to the other side of the store to see Alex coming out of the back room. "You wish. I'm not giving you any more of my money than I have to." His voice was two thirds country drawl and one third London, and laced with a calm cockiness that came with years of self assured skill in some field.

Alex sauntered up to Arthur at a mild pace and threw his arm around the smaller man and chuckled. With his other hand he adjusted the cigar between his lips. He patted Arthur's back roughly before making his way behind the counter.

Alex was one of the few doctors Arthur knew. A tall, thick, Cuban man who had no time for anything less than a pleasant day and no regard for those around him who didn't smoke.

"So, what is it then?" He asked, leaning against the yellowed counter.

"Just supplements. Anything you have." Arthur said casually.

Alex nodded and pulled a plastic bin out from under the counter, popping the blue top off and pulling out small glass jars. With large hands he carefully filled each jar with pills from different plastic bags, each marked in bold handwriting on beige masking tape labels. Arthur never knew where it was Alex got the pills but never really thought it mattered what with the world the way it was.

While Alex worked, he talked. "You're looking worse for wear. Get an assignment?"

Arthur frowned slightly and looked at himself in the long mirror on the wall behind the counter. His face was dirty, his hands and clothes dirtier. And it looked like he hadn't showered in a couple days. Which wasn't really untrue but he couldn't be blamed for that.

"Yes, unfortunately."

The taller man hummed in response. "Must be hard on the boys. How are they anyway? Still kicking up trouble?"

"Boys" meant Alfred and Matthew, Arthur's younger cousins. "Alfred more than ever. Damn kid's got some crazy idea in his head he's an adult. Matthew as always is just fine. Not a problem in the world with him."

Alex finished by pushing corks into the tops of each jar. "Good! Those boys are gonna grow up to be good men, just like their wonderful cousin I'm sure."

Arthur dug in the little bag attached to his belt and laughed, "Yeah, yeah take your damn money you know flattery doesn't work on me."

"That's what they all say and yet here I am, and here you are, coming back!" Alex winked as he caught the coins that were thrown at him. Arthur grabbed the jars and headed out.

"Keep talking like that and I might not!" Arthur called as he made his way out the door.

There were few places in this town like Alex's Apothecary. Arthur knew little about him, other than his Mother was a doctor and often researched natural medicine. Alex, although a very big hearted and generous man was still very much a mystery to most everyone.

Arthur threw the pills into his worn grey rucksack and looked around. He hadn't been below the Southern Border in at least four months and recollected little about the supposedly abandoned town. There was time to spare he supposed. The train near the edge of the border wasn't due to leave until late that night. With a little walking Arthur came upon the small circular building he'd been searching for. It was made of bright red bricks, and went relatively untouched by time. The roof tiles were dark green and covered with twigs and acorns from the trees around it. Glass panels formed a skylight between the roof and a small sloped top. A black wind vane stood still at the apex. Other than the skylight, one rounded window stood above the large tan double doors.

This building was arguably one of Arthur's favorites. It was the town library. He had stopped by every time he'd come into town. With lumbering steps he approached the doors, raising his hand and knocking them heavily a couple of times. There was silence. And then the sound of iron locks moving. One of the doors creaked open and a small man stood in its place. He didn't say anything, but he gestured for Arthur to come in. Arthur obliged. The two stood in silence as the door was closed and locked once more.

"Nice to see you again Kiku." Arthur said pleasantly.

Kiku was somewhat of an old friend. Not nearly as old as Alex, but round about. He had been talking with Alex one day about how he'd missed libraries. Most of them in his area didn't survive the anarchy brought on by the first seventy three hours of the disaster. Alex offhandedly mentioned the library in town kept by a quiet Japanese boy. Things had progressed from there. Kiku lent Arthur books as long as Arthur told him about his family. An odd exchange but worth it none the less.

"You too. Do you have the book from last time?" He asked politely.

"Ah, yeah. I'm sorry it's been so long." Arthur sighed, digging in the rucksack. "Work gets to me and then when I do get time off the boys keep me busy."

When Arthur found the book he held it out; Kiku lingered back for a second before accepting it. He didn't say anything. He rarely said much. When he did get to talking it was usually about whatever story Arthur was telling.

"How are they, your brothers I mean." Kiku questioned as he made his way down an aisle.

Arthur hung back before going down another aisle. At this point there was no correcting Kiku. He had referred to them as his brothers every time they talked.

"They're annoying as always. Getting into trouble. Well, Alfred at least." Arthur rambled without thinking. He focused more on the books than conversation. "The boy's an idiot. Thinking he's invincible will get him killed one day. Then what are Matt and I supposed to do? We've all lost people in The Fall. I don't know if Matt could take it if he lost Alfred too. Hell, I don't know if I could take it."

Arthur stopped and turned to Kiku, who had moved out into the open room, apologetically. "I didn't mean to...I'm sorry."

Kiku breathed deeply. "It's ok. That was a long time ago."

There was silence after that. Kiku had told him about his family only once. Parents and older brothers dead during a raid. He was so young and he lost everything. Arthur supposed that's why Kiku liked hearing so much about Alfred and Matthew. It helped him imagine what life might've been like. If The Fall had never happened, if this town never had to take him in, if his life had gone differently.

Arthur thought about that a lot too.

"How's about an old friend, then?" Arthur said casually, pulling out a battered copy of _1984_ by George Orwell.

Kiku nodded and picked up a pen and offering it. Arthur took it and quickly scribbled his name down before handing the book to Kiku. The inside of the front cover was littered with signatures, both Kiku's and that of others. Whether from this town or far away Arthur never knew. But his name appeared more than once, maybe seven if you really wanted to decipher the scrawling lines from one another.

"Strange isn't it? How different the world turned out to be from what Mr. Orwell thought." Kiku muttered, then handed the book back.

"Instead of someone watching over us, we suddenly realize no one's there. Big Brother abandoned us and didn't even bother to stay and watch us fall apart. Ironic I'd say." Arthur said thoughtfully.

Little more was shared before Arthur left. He strolled through the town and watched life go on as normally as it could. It amazed him that many of the children playing outside that day would only know The Fall as a story. A tale told by their parents. A tale where "Big Brother" cut his losses and left the rest of them to ruin. A tale where those who were left rose from the ashes and started again. And those who lost everything had to learn the difference between surviving and living. A tale they would go on to tell their kids much like how a historian would tell about a World War he never served in. Detached and with glamour.

He supposed it would be for the best once he was long gone. But for now he was young and alive and the scars still throbbed. The Fall was the kind of disaster that shook the whole world. No one expected it and everyone was scared. Though, credit had to be given to the human race. As much as things now weren't perfect, most people were able to move on and live fairly normal lives.

For the hours left before the train Arthur had managed to get some jam and avocados from a local woman, as well as more bullets. When the time came to board the train the sky was dark and you could barely make out the smoke coming from the barrels of the monster. He paid his fare to the man at the door and made his way down aisles of seats. Most trains like this were old and wholeheartedly refurbished. It should be noted, however, that _wholeheartedly_ did not mean_ well_. The seats were still red and covered in velvet. Even if said velvet was threadbare in many areas. It no longer gave the air of elegant richness, but gave a nice air to most. A smug sense of pride if you were Arthur, who felt no shame in laying himself out where the rich used to traipse their way across the country.

The ride was long and Arthur slept through most of it. But as the sun rose he could see the old town station on the horizon. Looking around he found few people in the car, one of them he recognized but they only nodded in distant affirmation. They both departed from the station in separate directions without saying a word to one another. There was nothing _to_ say. Not unless there was trouble.

_'If there was trouble I would've woken up dead.'_ Arthur thought.

Makeshift stables were built outside of the station, looking startlingly old next to the more modern building. The boy running the stable recognized him and without instruction brought Arthur his horse. There was a brief exchange of money before Arthur set off.

Riding through the suburban neighborhoods was strange. It felt like playing cowboys and indians. Arthur broke through the scenery like a rusty knife through milk. Obviously out of place, but no one looked up from their conversations. People sat on porches and played cards. Kids rolled around on lawns and teenagers gathered in packs at the street corners. No one had ever imagined people riding by on horses would become the norm on streets where minivans once reigned supreme. Arthur almost felt relief when he rode into the country.

He lived far enough from the city that they were afforded a good amount of land and few neighbors. It was an hour or two until midday when he finally hopped off his horse and let it into the pasture. He paused and looked at his home, which he did often. The yellow house sat at the edge of a forest that wound around the vast property. At the very edge of the woods sat the small stable built for three horses. The house itself was small but Arthur, Matthew, and Alfred were only three people.

Arthur made his way to the steps leading to a wrap around porch. He passed the windows to the kitchen and noticed Matthew was home. The front door creaked slightly but slid open freely. The sound of a generator starting hummed through the screens in the windows.

"Home!" Arthur called over the din.

Matthew appeared in the door smiling as always. He was young, but tall and strong. Smart as hell too. "Finally."

The two of them met in the middle of the room and threw their arms around one another. With Arthur's job, it was impossible to say when it would be they'd hug for the last time.

"Your brother home too?" Arthur asked and shrugged off his coat.

Matthew made his way through the doorway and back into the kitchen. "Yeah. He just started the generator so I can work on lunch. Boss let us out early because he "felt rain coming" or something like that."

"Yeah 'in his bones'. I'm surprised the old fart can feel his own heartbeat anymore." Alfred laughed, announcing himself as loudly as possible followed by the screen door slamming behind him.

"Hello to you too Alfred." Arthur sighed.

"You just got home and you're already sighing at me." Alfred joked and threw his arms around Arthur.

"Get off me!" Arthur complained, but patted Alfred's back anyway.

The blond laughed and strutted into the kitchen to hopefully annoy his brother instead, calling "Love you too!" back at Arthur.

Arthur scoffed and started removing the gun holsters that laid at his hips, setting them on the old wooden table. It was scuffed and scratched but was still smooth to the touch and shiny with lacquer. Arthur clearly remembered the day he and Alfred went furniture "shopping". Technically it isn't stealing if the place was abandoned _and_ a Goodwill. Arthur had figured the store still served it's purpose in a roundabout way while they heaved the thing and a couple other items into the back of a good samaritan's truck. If he were being honest, that's how they'd furnished most all of the house. Smiling at the memory Arthur shook his head and made his way into the kitchen. The cool tile floor felt good in the heat. Matthew stood next to the stove chopping carrots and potatoes.

"What's for lunch?" Arthur asked.

Matthew set the knife down and wiped his hands off on a towel before reaching for a pan above the island in the middle of the room. "Well, definitely fried potatoes and carrots. Maybe grilled cheese if _Alfred would get off his ass and ride down to the corner store for some cheese._" Matthew's voice lilted a couple notches higher in volume to address his brother in another room.

All he got in response was an exasperated "Oh my god I'm going!" followed by a muttered "Fuck."

"Anyway," Matthew continued. "It's gonna be a bit so if you want to go take a shower or something while the generator's going it'd be the perfect time."

Agreeing, Arthur ambled his way back through the dining room and past the bathroom. To the left a door opened on a staircase and another door to the living room. Upstairs was home to three fairly large bedrooms, where Arthur gathered fresh clothes before making his way back down to the bathroom.

It was raining at Cape Canaveral. The skies were dark and the air felt heavy. But that deterred Francis Bonnefoy little. He opened an umbrella as he stepped onto the loading platform that descended from the hull of the hulking ship he had been on for a good couple of days. A dark car pulled up as he reached the end, and it's doors opened swiftly so the young man could slide in as quickly as possible. Francis patted his long blonde hair down. In weather like this his hair tended to frizz and he had no qualms making it known he disliked that fact. The driver was a young man, early twenties, making him about the same age as Francis. His skin was tan and his hair curled in short brown strands. He looked much more suited to a bartender at one of the many clubs Francis had visited in Spain than someone who drove anyone paying to and fro. He was accompanied by a young woman with a curly blonde bob. They both had extraordinarily green eyes.

"Francis Bonnefoy I take it?" The man questioned, voice confirming Francis' first impression. The man was definitely Spanish.

"Oui." Francis replied. "And you?"

He got only a smile in return. "You can call me Toni." Toni's voice was even and pleasant. But it was altogether not one of a safe man. Francis had come in contact with many men like Toni in his short life. Most of whom were not the kind of men you wanted to upset. "This here," Toni motioned towards the woman, "Is Belle. My boss thought she might be a nice welcoming present."

Belle, which was undoubtedly a fake name, looked back at him and smiled. Well, it was a nice gesture at least.

"As much as I appreciate his efforts, and I do recommend you give my thanks to your boss, I don't think that will be necessary." Francis said smoothly.

"Shame. You're very handsome. Are you sure?" Belle asked, clearly trying to seduce him into compliance.

"Oh, very. While you are quite beautiful, I'm afraid my proclivity doesn't lean towards your feminine beauty." The Frenchman replied.

Belle, now no longer concerned about a paycheck shrugged his comment off and leaned back in her seat. Toni smirked at her and glimpsed at Francis in the rear view mirror bemusedly. The three set off on their long voyage, the next stop still hours away.

Their first stop involved a charging station. The car apparently was a hybrid, which was rare but not entirely impossible for someone like Toni's boss to own, and needed charged. Gas was far and little between in places like this. So they stopped somewhere that still managed to get electricity. Toni and Belle left the car telling Francis they would be leaving in about half an hour and Francis was welcome to roam if he pleased. He declined, happy to stay in the car if it meant staying dry and clean. The station wasn't exactly the most sanitary looking of all places. He almost hadn't noticed he'd dozed off after ten minutes. And he definitely hadn't noticed when it wasn't Toni who had opened the door and placed a cloth over his mouth.

Light faded in and out of Francis' vision. Noise was loud and he had trouble making sense of what was being said. A loud thump startled him before he completely blacked out.

* * *

**Note:** So yeah! It's literally been forever, and Fix has basically fallen out of my skill level in the past, what, year and a half-two years, since i last updated? I'm soooo sorry to anyone who loved Fix but I don't have plans to update it any time soon. If I ever find the passion for it again I might pick it up and re-write it though!

This has been a long fic in the making tbh. I created a book cover for it my Junior year of high school (and originally had no plans for it other than that we just had a book cover project in graphics) and have been slowly planning it out for the past year or so since then. I recently graduated and figured what better time to actually start writing again! I really think this story is great, rough around the edges as it is, and I really hope that all of you look forward to reading it!

I avidly encourage and appreciate comments and constructive criticism and I look forward to the growth of this world that's taken up so much of my mind in recent months!


	2. Chapter 2

It had started in Canada. A few people, no more than five. They all began the same. A fever that seemed perfectly common. Vomiting and cough, weakness. It was normal and no one paid it much mind. Until it got worse. Much, much worse. Suddenly more people came down with the same sickness. And the ones who were sick the longest couldn't keep food down anymore. If they were lucky they'd die of starvation. If they were unlucky...

They started seeing things. No one could really tell what exactly it was they were seeing. Many just stared into space in horror and screamed, pulling at sheets and their caretaker's clothing and arms. Crying and begging for help. For someone to save them.

And then they died.

No signs, no slow spiral down into death. They just stopped living. The air around them would vibrate with horror, lilting and echoing off walls. They'd scream until their voices were ragged. And within the span of seconds it took for them to take another breath, nothing. Hundreds of people died like this within a couple months. Doctors were baffled and Disease Controls everywhere were working constantly to figure the infection out. But nothing made sense, and more people were getting sick. Suddenly, it appeared in other places. Europe and South America, places nowhere close to where the first of the deaths occurred. Now the world was feeling unsettled. Doctors started making their best guesses. Patients started taking anything they could get their hands on. But nothing ever worked. As the disease got more aggressive, Governments tried assuaging any fear they could. Advising people to stay indoors, boil their water, cook their meats well past recommended temperatures. Everyone did whatever they could to survive. And for a while it worked. Less people were dying. Fear subsided what little it could in the times.

No one thought it could get worse. The disease didn't start with a fever anymore. Without warning, anyone infected became anemic, often blacking out and waking up in stupors. Dehydration set in no matter how much water people drank. The hallucinations got worse. More violent. The infected became enraged and lashed out at anyone near when a wave of hallucinations hit. By now hundreds of thousands around the world had died and it didn't look like there was any hope of it ending. The horror only escalated when patients started crying blood. The disease that had up until then gone nameless, bearing only the moniker "Contagion X" now toted the nickname "The Red Death". No one lived long after that stage. Governments did all they could to assure people everything would be okay. Gas masks were issued in case the disease was airborne. No one was pleased. They had been burning the dead for months now, unable to bury them in such large quantities.

The chaos spread when suddenly food banks and hospitals shut down. Buildings were burned and riots filled the streets of large cities. Robberies and arson shot up in number as people looted whatever they needed to survive. Groups from every part of the world claimed that this was the end. This was raprure. And one by one, every country shut down completely. Government simply ceased to exist, unable to handle the pressure of the pandemic. The world was thrown into ruin. People fought and killed each other for things that used to be plentiful. Power grids went down everywhere, powered only by solar panels, that is if there were any. And then when it was it's worst, when everyone had lost hope and faced death every time they woke up, people just stopped dying. No more hallucinations and no more Red Death. Some people recovered. It took almost a year before anyone realized it was over. And slowly, for most, life began again. People rallied together in small communities and rebuilt life.

But there was still horror in this new world. Still people who remembered the fear and the bloody tears. Children left orphaned, the memory of their parents, being caught in the crossfire of robberies and raids, their mothers protecting them and shielding them from men in black masks with guns.

Yelling "Mom" and "Dad".

"Stay back!"

"Get down get down!" he yelled above the screeching noise around them.

"Mom!" a child holding his new glasses, now broken in his hands, fat tears rolling down his cheeks as he struggled against his cousin.

"SHUT UP GET DOWN! STAY TOGETHER." he screamed and turned around, seeing only the black figure of an older boy against a blistering fire raise a gun shakily. He pulled his cousins to his chest as the sound of gunfire deafened him. He barely registered the bodies of two women crumpling to the ground.

"MOM!"

Arthur woke up sweating, his shirt sticking to him and the blanket all but smothering him. He threw the blanket off of himself and swung his legs off the bed. His heart was pounding. Taking a deep breath Arthur pushed his hair off of his forehead. It had been years and yet he could still replay that moment in his head like it was just the other night.

The morning light filtered through the curtains above his bed. The boys had gone to work hours ago, before the sun even broke the dark horizon. If Arthur got around soon enough he would be able to catch them before lunch. So up Arthur got. He figured Matthew would be asking about Gilbert so a trip to the post office would be warranted just in case.

When he got to the office he was surprised to see a message for him alongside Matthew's. Arthur knew who it was from instantly. His boss's handwriting was small, bold, and curt, almost laughably ironic when held up to the man. As it was opened he'd hoped to God it wasn't another assignment. Giving it a quick skimming, Arthur sighed in relief.

The farm was a stark contrast to Arthur's dark dream earlier. The land stretched for acres, it's vibrant green grass interrupted only by large plots of dark dirt gardens on one side and a worn white fenced pasture on the other. The sun came down in what seemed like pure brilliance that coated everything with a golden glow. Arthur stood under a tree near the big maroon barn that Alfred and Matthew often spent a lot of their day in. It was a massive thing. Meant originally to hold large amounts of livestock for butchering and dairy. The once open interior was sectioned off for a million different uses, but usually to hold the enormous amount of produce supplied to farmer's markets, trading centers, and individual vendors across several counties in the Texan Territory.

Arthur didn't move. He just waited until the boys were done with their work for a moment. Matthew had spotted him and waved two fingers at him before continuing what he was doing. Which currently was fixing up the Old Man's Monte. Matthew had tried to explain exactly what excited him so much about the old car, something about "A Monte Carlo from '70? The thing's basically the best thing to ever happen." or whatever. Alfred wasn't too far from his brother. He and several boys were loading up a pickup truck with hay and feed. One boy he recognized as Alfred's friend Scotty. He was at least a foot taller than the other boys and his hair was an ungodly bright ginger. He stood out against the other farmhands, who ranged from dark to fair skinned, Scotty being fairer than even Matthew. What amazed Arthur more about the boy than his amazing strength, was that he actually put up with Alfred without choking him.

When the boys finished, Alfred slammed the tailgate shut and wiped his hands on his jeans as the car took off to some far reach of the farm. Matthew wiped his hands on a bandanna and joined his brother as he walked towards Arthur, who stepped away from leaning against the rough bark of the tree.

"Why're you here?" Alfred asked once they were all under the shifting shade of leaves.

Arthur shot him a look that was anything but amused. "Hello to you too." His gaze shifted back over to Matthew, "I have good news." he smirked when the younger boy's face lit up.

Matthew took the letter from Arthur's hand and ripped it open to reveal two or three pieces of lined paper with messy scrawling writing on both sides of every page. He smiled brightly and Arthur turned his attention to Alfred so Matthew could read in relative peace.

"Anyway," Arthur starts. "I got a letter from Ivan."

Alfred frowns at the name.

"Luckily not an assignment. He's letting me off for a week or two. So looks like you'll be seeing more of me around for the time being." He explains. Alfred's eyes tell Arthur he's happy to hear that, but his petulant frown tells him he wishes it were more permanent. Arthur wouldn't be able to begin to tell Alfred how much he wished the same. But without this job they'd have nothing.

Alfred sensed another sermon coming on so he changed the subject.

"Didja hear about the Florida Territory?" He questioned. It seemed to work. His cousin looked at him with curiosity.

"No. Not that I know of. Why?"

Alfred took his glasses off and rubbed them with his shirt while he talked "I've been hearing about looters down near the Cape. Everyone's been talking."

Looters? Well that wasn't new. Though, Arthur thought he would have heard about that at some point. And while it was unlikely they'd move from the treasure trove Cape Canaveral brought in daily, he got a tugging feeling that told him he should double check that their doors were locked at night.

"Nothing new. Bit surprised I haven't heard a word of it from anyone. Though I wouldn't think Alex would know anything being he's so far away. He's the only reason I go any more south than we already are." Arthur said nonchalantly. It was probably nothing anyway.

The rustling of paper brings Matthew back into the conversation. Alfred, not missing a beat jumps on the chance to antagonize him.

"So what was that all about hmmm?" He asked slyly.

"None of your business that's what." The younger blond replied.

"Aww come on Mattie let me read!" Alfred whined as he reached for the letter Matthew held away from him. "I'm just curious!"

"Dude get the fuck off me. Alfred stop!" He yelled and tried to push his brother off as he wound his arm around Matthew's neck and a leg around his knees.

"Hey this is my job ok I wanna make sure this creep isn't fucking with my little bro." He huffed as Matthew finally pushed the other off of him. "What is it you two talk about anyway? You barely have anything in common besides cars. Does he wax poetic? Write you sonnets?" Alfred sighs dramatically, leaning against his brother, hand on his forehead.

"Or." He grinned. "Are the letters a bit more, well, graphic?" He wags his eyebrow at a clearly not amused and suddenly red Matthew.

"Alfred shut the hell up and leave your brother alone. Besides I highly doubt that's the case am I right Matthew?" Arthur chides, and when no answer comes and Matthew gets even redder Alfred starts laughing obnoxiously.

"Oh my god they are! That's fucking gross oh my god. In _letters_?" Alfred was overjoyed at his brother's embarrassment.

"Well it's not like these things don't happen. And people did it with their phones a long time ago so shut up!" Matthew grumbled.

Arthur rolled his eyes at the two. They were both young and stupid. But he knew they were growing up and a part of him didn't feel too comfortable with it. It felt like two months ago Alfred needed help tying his shoes and Matthew wanted to sleep with him during thunderstorms. He also made a mental note to pay a visit to Gilbert when he was up north.

"Both of you get back to work for fucks sake what am I going to do with you?" Arthur complained, shooing them off and telling them he'll be at the house when they're done for the day.

Which wasn't really all that long after all.

"You are by far the biggest idiot I've ever met." Arthur chided as he looked over Alfred's arm worriedly. He'd somehow managed to burn himself while setting some of the old stable hay on fire, why Alfred was doing that in the first place was still a mystery. Arthur figured if he asked he would get an answer similar to "Well we don't use it anyway, and we had lighter fluid so...".

When Arthur got up from the table Matthew took his place and set a cold wet towel over the burn. "You'll be lucky if it doesn't blister." He commented.

Arthur knew Alex would have something for it. "Wonderful. Another trip."

* * *

Francis' head had been fuzzy for quite a while and the only thing he registered when he was actually awake was movement, light, and heat. Intense heat. And then he would black out again. And then dirt.

He woke for the seemingly hundredth time since he'd first been, what? Kidnapped? If so he'd been out most of the time and he seriously doubted whoever did this would just kidnap him so they could leave him out in the middle of nowhere. Sitting up Francis registered that it was night and fairly cold. His head felt like lead and he moved sluggishly.

Francis Bonnefoy realized he had absolutely no idea where he was.

"Well, this is certainly not what I had in mind." He muttered angrily in French.

Francis took a few moments to regain what little composure he had before standing up and wobbling to his feet. Grimacing, he tried to dust himself off. Looking around it didn't seem like there were any signs of life. No houses or stores or the ever present sound of people in general. But there were train tracks. They were laid in never ending stretches going two directions. Which directions, Francis did not know. But he looked at them as if they had been the cause of this mess, frowning sharply in aggravation. If anything good could come of them he would be able to walk his way to civilization. If not, well, he preferred not to think too hard on the subject. So with a sigh, Francis chose a direction. Which he almost completely regretted. The chill of the night seeped through his thin shirt. His suit jacket had mysteriously disappeared, and if the tracks ever did come to any sort of end they weren't showing it. If he were being honest he would say he most certainly would have given up by now. But the persistent chill and several noises in the night unsettled him too much to convince him to sit down.

And if he were willing to let his pride slip a bit, he would admit the sight of a small town silhouetted by the rising sun almost made him want to cry. He had made his weary way into town by the time the sun bathed everything in a slightly less chilly blanket of light. No one was out of their homes at this time of day but Francis was just happy to feel cement under his feet instead of dirt. Out of the corner of his eye a flash of blue caught his attention. Near the corner of a street a young girl in a blue dress was sweeping off the curb, a neon "Open" sign flashing dully in the fresh daylight. Francis could hear her humming faintly from where he stood.

"Miss?" He called in English.

The girl looked up and swung her head back and forth before spotting Francis. She looked at him wide eyed, but didn't run. Francis hobbled across the street and noted that his ankle was twinging with pain every other step. The girl only stood there as he approached.

"Hello." Francis offered with a slight smile that did nothing to hide his chattering teeth.

There was no reply.

"Do you speak English?" He asked, unsure. He wasn't exactly sure just how far from the Florida Territory he had been taken. For all he knew he might not even be on the landmass that used to be the United States of America.

The girl shook her head.

"But you understand?"

A nod and a smile.

Francis rubbed his arm to keep warm. "Do you know where I might find somewhere to stay?" His usual flair in speech was not present, mostly because he was slightly sore and frankly too tired to care.

The girl smiled at him and offered her hand, which Francis took. She lead him to the door of the building, pushing it open to let them both in. The inside was warmer, but not by much. The floors and walls were dirty and dingy, as were the metal shelves that were lined up in imperfect rows. Francis rudely wrinkled his nose in disdain. The girl hadn't seen, or if she had, hadn't felt the need to show it. They made their way to the very back of the room towards another door. The girl knocked a couple times and the sound of someone moving around on the other side was followed by the door opening. A tall man with dark skin and dreadlocks stood in front of Francis.

"Hello." was all Francis could manage before he passed out.

* * *

**Note: **Whew! I was beginning to think I'd never post the next chapter! I try and go by the "finish one post one" rule. I was so anxious to get this one up but I had to write another page or so for chapter four before I could. But yeah! A little more Francis here. Originally I hadn't planned for him to meet the girl at Alex's shop but I've found that when following my "outline" I end up adding things from nowhere for pretty much no good reason. But it's better than I expected from the beginning so hey who's complaining?

Also sorry for the very weird info dump at the beginning. I wanted to be vague about "The Fall" for quite some time but then I figured the story had to move on from something so far removed from the actual timeline. The best way I could think of was to tie it in early to Arthur an the boys. Dream ex Machina anyone?


	3. Chapter 3

Francis was almost certain he'd been shot in the face. Just a little.

"Well shit didn't think you'd wake up."

The Frenchman turned to find the man with dreadlocks putting out a cigar in an ashtray he was holding. The smell was cloying and made him feel like he desperately needed to come up for air, but of course that sounded preposterous even in his head, never mind out loud.

"How long have I been sleeping?" He mumbled, lapsing into French halfway without even noticing.

The man exhaled as if he'd still been taking drags of the cigar and sat forward to put the tray on a nightstand next to the bed. "No more than a day I assure you. If that's the question I'm answering?"

The blond didn't reply, and the darker man didn't ask anything else. He just sat there for a minute and watched Francis sit up and rub his head. He really needed to fix this shot in the face situation.

"So what brings you below the Southern Border, Mr...?" Alex trailed off, his voice upticking at the end.

"Bonnefoy. Francis Bonnefoy." The blond grumbled.

"Well hello then Francis. You can call me Alex."

* * *

This was the last thing Arthur wanted to do on his vacation, if that's what you could call it anyway. The train back toward the border felt nearly twice as long as it had the first time. Of course the trip back wouldn't be that much different. He'd planned to leave well before nightfall. As usual the train arrived at noon, and Arthur squinted against the light before hurrying under the shade of the platform overhang. The inside of the station was small and much cooler than outside. A few people stood around waiting for their train to pull in, heading God knows where. An old Starbucks counter was a mere shadow of what it used to be, now housing only a man in a tan suit selling a sparse collection of items to what looked like a nurse. That is if the red cross stitched onto her worn shoulder bag wasn't a coincidence.

At the other end of the station Arthur rented a horse from a different boy than before. The boy nodded politely when Arthur gave him money. As he rode away a feeling nagged at the back of his mind. The feeling had come upon him only once before, and it made him feel like this was the end of something. Like Arthur was near the edge of a cliff but he couldn't see it. And the cliff would inevitably stop, abruptly, and with a sickening emptiness he'd fall. Whether or not he'd find a way back was uncertain. Arthur didn't like uncertainties.

* * *

"Fuck. Tricky ass business you got yourself into there Mr. Bonnefoy." Alex said, eyebrow raised.

"I suppose. I am alive and that is what matters in the end." Francis huffed and sent a delicate line of smoke from his lips to vanish into the air. He'd never liked cigars but now was as good a time as any for one in celebration.

Alex got up from his chair and stretched. He walked over to a small fridge in the corner of the room and pulled out two bottles of water. The walk back was slow and deliberate, as if the man spent his entire life conserving energy for when he genuinely needed it. Francis took the bottle when it was offered and was surprised to find the seal on the cap snapped when he opened it.

"Surprised huh? Hard to find bottled water many places nowadays." Alex laughed and took a swig from his own bottle. "Found a small palette of twenty-four packs in the back storage. Still got half of 'em left."

Francis remained silent for a moment. Alex had said they were below the Southern Border, which meant he was still near the territories. He'd have to find a way to the New York Territory regardless. Though he doubted Toni and Belle would be of any use to him now. Their boss was the no-nonsense type and would more likely leave him abandoned than waste any more time and money looking for him. Especially since Francis had yet to pay him for his services. That part of their deals usually occurred at the end. The bigger question was how was he going to to get where he was going quickly?

The sound of another door closing caught his and Alex's attention. Alex got up without saying anything, leaving Francis in the room by himself. Francis threw the blanket covering him to the side and slowly swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He noted that his right ankle was wrapped in an ace bandage. After moving it slightly and finding it didn't hurt, he pushed off the bed and steadied himself upright.

"Burn cream?" Alex asked, lips quirking at the side in a smirk.

"Well it's Alfred so it's believable." Arthur sighed. While Alex dug around behind the counter Arthur kept conversation going. "Speaking of, Alfred told me something about looters in Florida? You heard anything about it?"

Alex rose and placed a round tin on the counter. "Ten coins. Yeah, actually. Some guy stumbled in here yesterday. Said he was on his way to the New York Territory when he was kidnapped. Whoever did it left him out in the desert. Walked all the way into town when he found us here."

The door to the back room opened and Francis stepped out. He looked up at the two of them without much interest.

"Speak of the devil!" Alex laughed. "I wrapped your ankle up is it feeling better?"

"Yes, very much so. Thank you." He replied and made his way closer to the counter.

Arthur watched him carefully. The man was obviously not from the Territories with that accent. France more than likely. His clothes were rumpled and looked slept in, but were obviously part of a suit. He looked like the type of man who didn't get dirty for a living, but had no problem dealing in dirty matters.

"You were kidnapped?" Arthur asked.

Francis looked at him coolly, "Yes, unfortunately."

"Well I'm sorry to hear that. Do you know why?" The short blond knew his sorry didn't sound sorry at all. If anything it sounded antagonistic. Not that he minded much. This man was obviously not from the same background he or Alex was, and would more than likely point his nose up at them in any other circumstance.

The french man sighed and raked his hands through his long hair. "No, I do not. I had nothing much of value on me. Now it seems I am on a mission to New York."

Alex crossed his arms and looked contemplative, which Arthur knew meant one or both of them was going to be subjected to some hair-brained scheme. The older man's eyes lit up and he turned quickly to the taller blond.

"Y'know, Arthur's a Bounty Hunter! He travels everywhere from Hell and back. Maybe he can escort you." It sounded more like a proposition than a question to Arthur. "That way you won't get your ass kidnapped again. And I doubt you'd live more than a week out there by yourself."

Francis seemed mildly offended, but glanced at Arthur expectantly, "Do you think that would be possible?"

Arthur didn't like the look he was given. Like this man thought he had a right to the safety in escort. People like him were exactly the kind Arthur was sent after nine times out of ten, and if given the chance would probably shoot him in the leg halfway through the journey.

"No way in hell. This is your problem, and I have plenty of my own. Nice to see you Alex." He grumbled and set the coins he owed on the counter before turning away.

Francis scowled. This Arthur was rude, and obviously didn't know what was at stake by turning him down. "I have money!" He commanded, stepping forward.

Arthur turned and glowered back at him. It almost made Francis drop his faćade of bravado. The smaller man turned around fully and almost seemed to growl at him. "Yeah, and so does my boss! You think I'm going to waste my time on some pathetic snob during one of the few weeks a year I get to not worry about being shot? I've got other shit to do."

Before Arthur turned to leave again, Francis panicked. He knew he wouldn't survive alone as much as his pride insisted he could. He had no idea how to get to New York and no means to do so.

"I don't think you understand. Name a price and you'll have it! I have more money than you can imagine and I assure you you will be paid for your services." He bargained.

Now that made Arthur stop. He desperately wanted to put the other man in his place. He wanted to refuse so badly it almost hurt. But if what he was saying is true, one little week could earn him enough money to buy his own home somewhere where he wouldn't be under anyone's thumb. He and his cousins could live out their lives in relative peace. He hated being wrangled into this mess...but it might be worth it. He didn't say anything right away.

"Fuck it. Fine. Follow me." Arthur barked as he pushed the store's door open, letting in a faint breeze. He still wasn't entirely sure this was an exceptionable idea.

Francis followed closely behind after saying his goodbye to Alex. They walked in silence and stopped at a small telephone booth. Francis didn't know that telephones still worked here. They had them back home but it was usually in the homes of the wealthy, and a place as abandoned as this town didn't seem to be wealthy enough to afford luxuries such as power. Arthur dropped some of his coins into a slot, then dialed a number.

Arthur knew around this time of day the boys would normally be at work. And the only person there he could call would be the old man. The phone rang five times before it was picked up.

"Hello?" A gruff voice questioned.

"Hello Mr. Bardsley, this is Arthur Kirkland. I was wondering if I could get Matthew on the phone?" Arthur shifted the phone from one ear to another while he waited for a reply. The old man was moody at best and it wouldn't be too surprising if he hung up on him right now.

When the man replied Arthur almost sighed gratefully.

"I think I can do that. Just wait while I get him."

The silence on the line lasted no more than a minute or so before the faint sounds of a door opening and closing echoed on one end.

"Arthur?" Matthew asked.

"Yeah it's me. I have to go to Michigan to pick up some more rounds and maybe a new gun." Arthur explained.

"Michigan? Why though? Did something happen?" Matthew sounded worried as always.

"No everything's fine. I just need to restock is all. I'll be back with the burn cream in a day or so." Arthur knew on the other side Matthew was fidgeting, wanting to ask a question he'd asked a million times before.

"Arthur I know I ask a lot," He started. "But, do you think I could go this once?"

The older man sighed. He knew Matthew hasn't seen Gilbert in forever and technically now of all times would be the best opportunity. But if Arthur wanted to get this repulsive Frenchman off his back he'd have to do everything as soon as possible.

Matthew panicked, afraid he'd upset his cousin. "I understand if you don't want to take the extra trip though! I just thought that now would be a good time because you're not on a mission and it would be safer! That's why I asked." The poor kid sounded completely defeated.

"Hey don't worry I'm sure you'll get to see him soon. If you want I can pass a message along." Arthur could at least offer him that.

"Thank you Arthur. Just tell him I miss him. And that I..." Matthew trailed off, sounding as red as he more than likely was. "That I love him?"

"I can do that." Arthur laughed. "Take care of your brother. I'll be back soon."

"Okay! Bye."

"Bye." He hung up.

Francis didn't ask any questions when Arthur turned around and headed off in another direction. There was quiet between the two again, which Francis was suspecting would become a constant.

Their walk ended at a horse. Arthur slipped his rucksack into a bigger bag that was tethered to the worn saddle before untying the large animal. Moving swiftly and with practiced grace, Arthur was swinging his leg over the other side of the giant. Francis stared at the horse with trepidation. He had grown up around horses most of his life but he'd never once had to handle one.

"What are you waiting for? An invitation?" Arthur peered at Francis from above, smug.

"Why, of course not my dear, just contemplating what an enjoyable person you are to be around. I am very lucky to have you as my guide." He sneered back.

He held out his hand expecting a supportive grip but got only a rough yank by the elbow to help him up into the saddle behind Arthur. Francis' heart beat viciously against his ribcage as he teetered above the ground. With his arms wound around Arthur's waist he prayed the smaller man couldn't feel it. He would not admit anything to this man, much less petty fear. Though, once they started moving it took all Francis' pride not to tighten his grip on his guide.

At the station they returned the horse to it's stall, and made their way through the emptiness of the station to the platform. The train pulled in shortly and it's bulky form halted for what seemed would be only a moment, as if it were a living being with it's own schedule to manage in spite of the tiny humans who drove it's movement. The seating inside was worn but on the edge of acceptable for Francis. It's cars cut into smaller boxes of glass and worn trim. There was no talking. Arthur stared out the window with a blank expression and Francis didn't attempt any conversation. Not even after the train started moving and the scenery flew past in a blur.

Francis wasn't fool enough to think Arthur didn't notice his staring after so many minutes. And it wasn't that Francis meant much of anything by it either. His guide was rigid in more ways than one and entirely made up of mystery. But there was something to him. Something so very conflicting. It might have been the softness of his features compared to the rough callouses on his hands. Arthur was fairly attractive, and it seemed such a waste for his time to be devoted to bounty hunting.

Night fell soon enough, and Arthur's voice almost startled Francis out of his skin.

"Your seat pulls out a little for a bed. If you're lucky there's a pillow in your overhead." He explained as he got up and dug around for his own pillow.

For once Francis didn't say anything back. He was suddenly aware of how tired he was, and followed Arthur's lead. The shuffling of other passengers filled the empty space between the two men as they laid down and prepared for the night. Arthur laid with his back to Francis and seemed to sleep almost instantly. But the Frenchman couldn't seem to get comfortable enough. After rolling around as much as his limited space allowed for some time, he laid awake in silence. He peered out the window and watched the tops of trees scrape the dark sky. The moon and stars shone immoveable in the sky, filtering dull light into the space around him.

For some reason he felt overwhelmed. It seemed like now that stillness had finally forced itself upon him everything that had been held above him suddenly crashed down. Francis didn't know why, but he teared up. Everything about this situation was wrong. He didn't belong in the dingy sleeper car of this train, next to a man that had been and would continue to be nothing but rude to him.

Homesickness hit him unexpectedly and he wanted nothing more than to hear his Mother's voice and to feel her fingers comb through his hair. He pressed the insides of his palms tightly against his eyelids and tried to will away the darkness creeping into him. He could only be grateful the sounds of the train rattling and other people speaking in softened tones did not leave him as alone as he might have felt without them. They were constants. Reminders he wasn't completely alone. Francis was just grateful Arthur was asleep and didn't hear him breathe in and out shakily. He couldn't discern when exactly, but sleep took him at some point in the night.

* * *

**Note:** Woo! After what I'm sure was a month I finally have chapter 3 up! I was trying to stick to my usual writeing/posting schedule but chapter 5 gave me so much trouble. If you look closely in this chapter you can find a small nod to Cherie Preist's _Clockwork Century_ series. Her books are what really made me want to write this story again, sans the zombies of course. Though I'm not ashamed to admit the Shia Lebouf movie _Lawless_ came first on the inspiration train.

Also! If anyone wants to know when a new chapter might be coming out/is posted before they decide to check their email, I post on my tumblr (tokyodrools) immediately after I post a chapter. I also use the tag AIFATF when I tag most of my posts related to the story but not always. I appreciate everyone who's been following the story! I've gotten more than almost 200 hits on both AO3 and . I'd love to hear any comments or critiques, and look forward to chapter 4 just as much as all of you guys!


	4. Chapter 4

Morning came with little fanfare other than the sound of the train's breaks screaming to a halt. Arthur had been awake for some odd hours, and watched as the shift in weight jostled the other man in his car awake. Francis looked like hell.

"We're going to be most of the day yet. We're just stopping here to refuel. We can leave the train but with or without us it'll move on in two hours." Arthur said blandly, shifting his legs to get up.

Francis didn't say anything but followed him out into the cool morning. The train station they'd stopped at seemed to be in the upper Oklahoma Territory. Inside just as few people as anywhere else stood amongst the ill kept ruins. If it weren't for shipping Arthur doubted there would be any trains coming south in the first place.

"Hungry?" Arthur asked off-handedly.

"I suppose." Francis didn't sound very enthused.

As much as Arthur didn't like him he really couldn't blame him either. "I'll go see if I can find some food. There's usually a stand somewhere around stations."

Arthur left Francis to do whatever it is he needed to. It didn't take long to find food. And older woman had set up shop at a repurposed front desk. Lucky for him she was selling more than just produce. He figured some bread and apples would suffice for the trip north. After paying Arthur had looked around briefly but found no sign of the other man. It was more than likely Francis had already made his way back onto the train.

* * *

Sighing, Francis rubbed his eyes. He felt no better than he did the night before. His sleep was superficial and often interrupted by the jarring of the train or someone's late night bathroom break. Everything felt dull, including him. His senses seemed fuzzy at the edges and he could barely bring himself to speak if it didn't matter. If it were possible a drink would be wonderful.

"I was right, you are here. Well saves me the trouble of finding you then I guess." Arthur said as he opened, and then closed the compartment door behind him.

Francis only watched blankly as Arthur arranged his bag next to the spot he'd eventually sit down in. He had offered and apple, but the Frenchman refused. Most of the train ride was spent in this quiet. It was nearing afternoon before Arthur could even get Francis to eat.

"You know whatever funk it is you've got yourself into is going to have to end sometime soon." Arthur stated matter-of-factually.

"Oh? And why would that be?" Francis' tone was flat, but upticked at the end in curiosity.

"Where we're going it's more than likely we'll be greeted by an extremely talkative Italian and I'd rather you not put him off. If course that's if we're lucky."

"And if we're unlucky?"

Arthur ripped a piece of bread off of his small loaf with his teeth and chewed a few times before speaking. "His brother will be there too. While he's harmless he's not exactly fun to be around."

"Well then, cheers to lady luck?" Francis was only joking, but Arthur raised his loaf of bread slightly as a silent sign of agreement.

When the train finally pulled into it's destination it was almost seven. With a little resourcefulness Arthur had managed to hitch them a ride. Which wasn't long granted, but the walk would have been taxing at best. All Francis knew is they were headed to Beilschmidt Auto, wherever that was.

Beilschmidt Auto turned out to be a small body shop at one of two corners leading down a small rural road off of the highway. While Arthur entered the building, Francis took in his surroundings.

Across the two lane highway a large cornfield stretched between a small home and a hotel. The front building of the hotel was small, painted dark green. The hotel rooms behind it were condensed into one long building with no more than maybe twenty rooms. The outside of this building was unfortunately painted bright pink. It almost hurt to look at. A sign near the road read "Michigan Motel" over a rounded mitten and chipped with age. Next to Beilschmidt Auto another building fared little better than the motel. The glass windows were dark, and the only thing that would hint to what might have gone on inside at some point were faded yellow letters on the front saying "Dew's Pizza &amp; Subs". Everything down the road was mostly trees, but a road here and there along with a few larger buildings could be spotted in the distance. Arthur came out from the shop again.

"Not here. Guess we'll have to go to the house." Arthur announced.

"House?" Francis questioned. He hadn't seen a house as they pulled up.

Arthur only led him around the property and through a tall wooden gate. Beyond a small concrete lot cracked and overgrown with weeds, a house stood in between trees. As they neared the house Francis found it in better shape than he expected. A small plot of land behind the house served as a garden and various wind chimes stood still in the afternoon air above the porch. The white painted stairs creaked underneath the men's weight. A well worn wooden porch swing sported several lap pillows and a tin cup sat forgotten on the railing next to it. Arthur knocked a couple times and a faint voice could be heard on the other side. The door opened up and a short man with auburn hair and a bright smile greeted them.

"Oh! Arthur! It's been forever. Come in." He said happily and moved to usher them into the house.

The house itself was modest inside and the smell of food almost seemed to surround them. Francis found it small and unlike any place he'd ever experienced, but it easily felt like home. The brunet lead them through the house to the kitchen table. He insisted they sit while he made them coffee.

"I'm sorry I didn't introduce myself did I?" The man asked, approaching Francis and offering his hand. "My name is Feliciano Vargas."

"Oh, Italian. Makes me feel a little closer to home. Francis Bonnefoy." Francis took the offered hand and smiled warmly at the Italian.

Feliciano smiled at the pair before starting to work on the coffee. "So, why are you here so suddenly? You usually send a note or call."

The smell of brewing coffee was strong against the other smells coming from the stove but it wasn't overpowering and only added to the feel of the house.

Arthur leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. "Well I was down below the Southern Border to pick up burn salve for Alfred and this man here," he motioned his head towards Francis, who felt slightly wounded for some reason but said nothing, "hired me to take him to New York. I don't think much will come out of it but better safe than sorry so here I am for rounds. Got some recently but if anything does go down I don't think it'll be enough."

Feliciano only hummed a reply as he started to stir a pot on the stove's range. He seemed content, but in a way Francis didn't understand. Arthur seemed to understand better and looked on at the Italian fondly. As if he was a mother who got to watch her child achieve something they'd always dreamed of. When the coffee maker finally stopped dripping two mugs were pulled out of a cupboard and filled. Francis took the mug with a smile but he doubted he would like it much. His palette wasn't used to painfully common foods.

"Now that you know why I'm here, I might as well ask my own questions." Arthur said after he sipped from his own cup. "How are things going? With Ludwig I mean?"

Feliciano laughed. "Not much differently than the last time you asked! He tries to be so considerate to me and I think it's to his own fault. If I were meaner I'd say he was dumb."

"He needs to buck the fuck up in my opinion. If he honestly hasn't noticed and you're not going to tell him, he'll spend forever running around in the dark." Arthur took another sip of his coffee and rubbed the warm surface of the cup almost thoughtfully.

The Italian stopped what he was doing and leaned against the counter, arms folded. "I don't even know if I did tell him he'd be ready. Ludwig wants to protect me and make sure he's not doing anything pushy. Which I do appreciate! I don't know... Maybe I'm no better because I feel the same. Either way it's going to come out in it's own time and I'd rather it be on his schedule. I'm patient."

Now Francis was wondering who exactly this Ludwig was. He had absolutely no problems admitting Feliciano was very attractive. But it was interesting to wonder who this man was, what he would look like next to the Italian. How do they fit together?

"Not to sound like a booze hound, but I haven't had a drink in months. You got anything?" Arthur asked out of the blue.

Feliciano smiled, which seemed like the only thing he ever did. "Figured you would ask. We do, but I wish we didn't." He moved across the kitchen and opened another cupboard to pull out a large mason jar. He handed it to Arthur before returning to the stove.

Arthur shook it briefly and looked at it. Seeming satisfied he opened the jar and poured some into his coffee. He screwed the metal top back on.

"I'm not picky so this should be fine." Arthur said.

"I don't like the idea of Gilbert going out and buying the stuff." The brunet frowned for the first time.

Francis concluded that this man would look cute doing absolutely anything. Ludwig was a lucky man.

"I wouldn't worry if I were you. It's not the buying that's the dangerous part, it's the selling. I pray for the poor bastards that get stuck with that job." Arthur told him.

Feliciano sighed, "But still. Imagine all the immoral things that go into it!"

"Feliciano, I'm a bounty hunter. I literally kill for money and you willingly let me into your home. You cannot get more immoral than that without being completely smashed a couple times a month. How I manage I will never know. Believe me they're saints in comparison." Arthur said as he leaned back in his chair. "Stupid," He paused to take a drink, then lowered it to the table again. "But saints."

The three sat without saying anything for quite some time. None of them found it felt awkward. Francis briefly thought the feel of the home in general kept pretty much anything from being uncomfortable. Their coffee mugs had been refilled for a second time before the sound of heavy footsteps alerted them to newcomers.

The front door opened and two men stepped into the house. One was tall and muscular, blonde hair slicked back. His shirt was black, but showed obvious signs of dirt and sweat. The other man was shorter and pale. His hair was white in places it didn't have oil or grease staining it. Francis was almost startled by his dark red eyes. He'd never met anyone who looked like that man did. Arthur stood up and met the taller man halfway.

"Ludwig." He said and offered his hand.

"Arthur." Ludwig gripped Arthur's hand firmly.

"Lemme guess Birdie isn't here is he?" The pale man asked, voice loud and tone unapologetic. His blonde companion seemed unfazed.

Arthur looked at him with annoyance. "No. Unfortunately I didn't have time to pick Matthew up on my way here." There was slight emphasis on Matthew's name.

"I'm really sorry to just show up like this. But I wanted to pick up some more rounds before my next job. Speaking of," Arthur turned towards Francis, who stood up and approached. "This is Francis. He's the reason I'm here."

Francis held out his hand hesitantly to shake each of the men's. "Francis Bonnefoy. Arthur here has been gracious enough to escort me to the New York Territory."

Ludwig nodded at Francis as he let go of his hand. He seemed like a strong and silent man. Which almost made comedic sense to Francis. If opposites really do attract, Feliciano's feelings made sense.

Ludwig turned to talk to an excited Feliciano and Gilbert stepped up to talk to Arthur and his ward.

"We can get you some rounds. But it's getting late. You can stay tonight if you want. We only have one extra bed though, so you guys can work that out on your own." Gilbert said.

Francis and Arthur exchanged a brief look. Arthur just shrugged. There really wasn't much for him to protest. A bed for the night is better than no bed. Even if he had to share it with Francis, who personally didn't care either.

"Oh! Before I forget. Gilbert," Arthur started. Gilbert raised his eyebrow with interest. "Matthew had a message for you." Now he was _really_ interested. "He told me to tell you he loves you."

Now, no one who ever knew Francis claimed he was a master with love. Many in fact had stated quite the opposite many times. But when Gilbert's eyes lit up and a genuine smile graced his features, Francis knew that Matthew's message meant the world to him. The poor fool was in love and way over his own head.

Later that night, after dinner had been served and the dishes long done, Ludwig had retired and Arthur sat in the living room with Feliciano. Francis and Gilbert sat at the kitchen table still, talking like old friends. The dynamic between them was in more than one way pure energy. Gilbert seemed to never tire. And Francis almost always found a way to acquiesce to his mischief without spurring it on. It was like they were teens again. Years that weren't so far away as they seemed but still were filled with far off memories of stupidity and skulking around. If someone had told Francis that he would one day befriend someone not only from the Territories, but someone much lower in class than him he probably would've laughed. But, there are first times for everything he supposed.

"So, Feliciano obviously isn't related to you and your brother. How is it you became acquainted?" Francis asked.

"God. It was a long fucking time ago. At least it feels that way." Gilbert said and nodded his head slightly at the memory. "Well, it might've been three...four years ago? It was really late and I looked out my window at the garden for some fucking reason." Gilbert threw his hand up in the air for effect.

"And I saw something move. At first I thought maybe a deer or something was eating the plants. So I was like "fuck that" and I ran downstairs and told Ludwig to get the gun. I mean if it was a deer why pass up on the meat you know? So we're both out in the dark and the closer we get we realize that holy fuck it's a person. Feli was just sitting there holding a carrot and looking at us like we were grim reapers. Lud's a big softie so he insists we take him in. Feli was apparently fired from his job and kicked out of his apartment or whatever. He never really explains it to us when we ask even now. So we offer him a place to stay. Now he helps out around the house and the workshop to earn his keep here. That's about it." He finished.

He took a sip from the cup he'd filled with moonshine. "What about you? What's up with you and Arthur? Neither of you seemed too pissed about having to share a bed." He asked.

Francis smirked. "I'm afraid whatever it is you suspect is nothing but your imagination my friend. I personally have no qualms about sharing my bed with a fairly handsome man. But Arthur is not one of my biggest fans. I assume it's simply his mere utilitarianism that moved him to accept fate. I'm simply paying him to take me to New York. That's it."

Gilbert didn't ask why it was Francis needed to be in New York. He honestly didn't really give much of a fuck either. "To every fool a purpose I guess." was all he said before announcing he was off to bed, and suggesting Francis do the same. Advice he followed shortly after finishing his own drink.

* * *

"So you can find him, non?" The woman asked, towering above him. She had refused to sit.

Ivan wasn't intimidated. This woman was witty and definitely had enough man power behind her to get her out of trouble, but there was no use getting involved with her past what she asked of him.

"I do not lie. If I say I can find him I will." He replied coolly. Out of the corner of his eye Ivan saw Yao shift from one foot to another cautiously. "I keep my promises."

"Hmm. Well I'd hope so. Quite a shame if I put up all this money and I get nothing." She sneered.

Ivan smiled at her pleasantly. "I'll have someone out as soon as possible. After all, it is what you are paying me for."

* * *

**Note:** Ok, I decided i'd break my own rule this once. I've gotten so much support for this fic and I am so glad for it. So! Merry Christmas lovelies! I hope you all like this chapter as much as I do. Things here and there I still see need fixing up but writing is my hobby and I'd rather a chapter go up imperfect than spend months trying to make it absolutely perfect (impossible btw).

But other than that, Beilschmidt Auto, the Motel, and Dew's are all based on a real place in my hometown! There's a literal "cross" of highway where if you faced the road between Dew's and Beilschmidt's, it'd lead to my middle and high school. And behind you would be the cornfield and the motel. Yes, the motel is bright pink it's an eyesore. But you can imagine after 7 years of seeing it every day I've seen every possible beauty in it so of course I feel a sort of nostalgia towards it! Though I did take some liberties with Ludwig's house. In real life it isn't hidden by more than a tree but it always looked very homey and like it should be someone's hidden haven. If I recall correctly the owner's son was a friend of my sister's.

And sorry for any half-drawn moonshine references. I have no idea how to make the stuff and at this point I'm running 100% on Lawless and Moonshiners tbh. Though I am sure shaking it and looking at the bubbles (somehow) helps you determine it's proof! Feel free to correct me because if things in the story go as planned I will definitely be delving more into the actual making and supposed distribution of moonshine simply because it's interesting as hell.

Ok enough rambling thank you all so much for supporting and reading this fic it means so much! Look out for chapter 5 someday in 2015! I have some personal projects in the works but I will work as hard as possible to get chapters out.


	5. Chapter 5

The sound of birds woke Francis up. When he opened his eyes the early morning sun filtered in through the window, which was open and let a breeze flutter the curtains. He pulled the blankets tighter around himself to ward off the chill in the room. The bed no longer dipped next to him, meaning Arthur was already up. The bedroom door opened. Speak of the devil.

"Get up Bonnefoy. We have to get moving if we want to catch our train." Arthur said as he messed with his rucksack. Likely to put away the rounds he'd come for.

Francis got up slowly and adjusted himself at look as presentable as possible. When he finally ambled downstairs Feliciano had started breakfast for himself and the brothers, who sat at the table nursing coffee.

"We'll be off. Thank you for the night I really appreciate it." Arthur said before shaking hands with everyone.

Francis sleepily made his round as well and followed Arthur out the front door. The air outside was cold and clear. Francis yawned and trailed the hunter. But instead of walking down the highway where they came, Arthur went around the far side of the shop building. Normally Francis would question the action, but he figured that by now there was no arguing with Arthur. The man always had a plan so it might just be easier to go along with it for the time being. When he returned a small scooter rolled next to him. Again, Francis said nothing. But he definitely raised an eyebrow.

"You could say we're the official test run. Feli says there's enough gas in it to get us to the station. Ludwig'll pick it up later." Arthur explained as he tinkered with some of the controls.

"Very considerate of them." Francis replied.

Arthur only shrugged. "It's the kind of people they are. It's hard to get along in this world if you don't practice what you preach."

The scooter started up with a mellow hum, its motor whirring to life. Arthur swung one leg through the space between the steering and the seat. He scooted forward and shot an expectant look towards Francis. It was too early for Francis to care much. Once situated they sped off.

Francis considered himself somewhat lucky to be riding behind Arthur at that point. The wind whipped violently around them and stung his knuckles where they met around Arthur's waist. But at least he could still feel his face. Despite the air Arthur seemed completely unaffected. What little views he got of the man's face, Francis could tell something about riding along those asphalt roads let Arthur loosen up. Compared to Arthur's usual expression of discontent, it was quite nice.

True to word by the time they reached the train station the gas gauge was almost hitting empty. Francis stepped off the machine and flexed his frozen fingers as he waited for Arthur to hide the scooter somewhere. When Arthur was satisfied and returned his face wasn't even red from the wind. He looked more ghostly than anything. Their slight hope for heat once they entered the building was soon squashed. Their train car however was comfortable. Enough so that Francis immediately went back to sleep as soon as their cabin door closed.

Arthur hadn't slept on the ride. He was used to not sleeping by now and had no problem keeping himself up. The train stopped several times for mechanical issues but none of the stops lasted more than half an hour. And by the time the train pulled back into the familiar docking platform it was almost dinnertime.

"Hey." Arthur said, voice cracking slightly with disuse. Francis didn't move. Nudging him with his foot he tried again. "Frenchie. You dead? I'm still waiting for my money I won't let you die yet."

"Only to spite you." As usual, Francis was a delight when woken.

Neither of the men registered much on the ride back to the house. Francis was still tired and Arthur only wanted to be home again. But when they finally arrived, something was off. Matthew was standing on the front porch. He didn't look panicked but he certainly wasn't happy. Francis followed cautiously as Arthur approached the porch.

"Ivan's here." Was all Matthew needed to say.

Arthur looked from his cousin to Francis and back. "Matthew take him out back for a bit. I'll take care of this."

There were no questions, and Matthew lead Francis around the house quietly. Arthur steeled himself and opened the door. Sitting at the dining room table was Ivan. His bulky form towered far above the back of the chair and his legs bent awkwardly under the table top. The dim candles cast orange light against his pale hair, but his eyes shone eerie violet, almost as if they had a light source of their own, making him look like a predator in the night. Which in most cases wasn't a far off assumption.

"So, what's the special occasion? You don't usually show up here when you need something." Arthur commented. The door closing behind him was the only sound for a few seconds.

"Well, after all, you are my favorite Arthur." Ivan smiled. The man was frankly upsetting. He never seemed to act anything other than pleasant, but Arthur knew that behind closed doors he was as much of a brute as he looked.

Arthur moved closer to the table and moved to take off his gun holster. Before he could touch it he noticed Yao in the corner of the room stepping forward. Ivan only held his hand up. The Asian man looked at him apprehensively before stepping back into place. Yao was Ivan's bodyguard, which looked about as ridiculous as it sounded. Ivan was at least six foot and could probably take down a bear. Yao was in comparison small. But then again so was Arthur and yet he was the one doing jobs for Ivan. So something had to be said for him.

The sound of wood scraping against itself echoed in the silent room as Ivan stood. Arthur continued his routine as if nothing had happened. He registered Alfred appearing in the kitchen doorway.

"I know you were probably enjoying your well deserved break, but there are more pressing matters at hand." The Russian man said as he circled the table to meet Arthur on the other side. He loomed above everything in the room but Arthur's bravery, smiling as if he had just commented on how late it had become. "A recent target has made his way into my hands and he needs to be dealt with. Sooner rather than later."

"Don't suppose I have the option to say no do I?" Arthur asked knowing the answer already.

"Hmm. Adorable as always Arthur."

"I'll set off tomorrow. What's the name and last place he was seen?" Arthur asked, moving across the room to hang his rucksack on a coat hanger.

Ivan motioned for Yao to follow him and the two moved towards the door. "Francis Bonnefoy."

Arthur froze.

"He was last expected to be in Cape Canaveral but I've heard rumors of looters. The gang working that area frequents below the border so it's very possible he may be out there too." Ivan told him.

When he got no reply, he bid Arthur a last farewell before walking out of the house. Ivan had needed no response because one hadn't been asked for. Ivan never needed to ask. A car started somewhere outside and it's engine slowly faded into the background.

That son of a bitch.

Marching to the table and grabbing a gun out of it's holster, Arthur flew out the front door. Halfway there he was met by the pair, who had most likely heard the car leave and assumed it was safe to come back in. Francis looked slightly surprised when he noticed the gun in Arthur's hand.

"YOU SON OF A BITCH!" Arthur screamed and grabbed Francis by the collar, gun pointed nowhere specific but definitely somewhere painful.

"What are you doing? Let go of me!" Francis shouted back angrily.

"YOU ARE A WANTED MAN AND NEVER THOUGH TO TELL ME?"

Matthew stepped back away from the two in shock, but stayed close enough to watch what was happening.

Francis looked at Arthur bewildered. "What the hell are you talking about?!"

Arthur fumed. This bastard was barely worth the trouble he caused in the first place. But everything was different now that Ivan was involved. Ivan had the power to leave them homeless, penniless, and without any means to survive at at best. At worst, he could, and would, easily take everything Arthur ever loved away from him.

"Don't give me that bullshit! I swear to God I'll fucking turn you in now."

Francis look panicked. He couldn't imagine why anyone would want anything to do with him. Unless...

"Listen! It has to be whoever it was that kidnapped me I-" Francis was cut off by Arthur shoving him back a couple inches. He almost tripped over his own feet but found his stability again.

"Frankly, I don't give a fuck if it's the Queen of England!" Arthur scoffed.

Francis knew if he didn't find a logical solution to Arthur's anger he'd end up dead one way or another. It didn't matter if it was here on this farm in the middle of nowhere or wherever it was this Ivan man planned on shipping him. Dead was dead and Francis was not quite ready to shake hands with death.

"I can give you twice, triple anything he offers!" Francis bargained.

The cold barrel of Arthur's gun shifted, pressing firmly into the bottom oh his jaw. The hunter's eyes flickered in the fading afternoon sun.

"Do you understand what this could mean for my family? Ivan is the farthest thing from a saint and I've got no plans to find out what he's willing to do. Give me one good reason I shouldn't shoot you right now. Why should I put my family on the chopping block?" Arthur growled.

Francis knew things were going nowhere good. "Listen." He started, trying to look and sound calm. "Both you and I know I have plenty of money to spare. I don't know much about your life, but living under the thumb of this Ivan doesn't sound easy."

No argument followed that statement, so Francis took that as a sign to continue. "If we can get this done quickly Ivan will never have to know. To him I'll just be one step ahead of you. And if everything goes well you get your money and get to live the rest of your life free. No bounty hunting, no assignments, no Ivan. And I get to go back home intact. You can do this. If you're really that good at hunting this will be nothing."

The grip on Francis' shirt slackened and he thanked God for his silver tongue. It was barely noticeable, but Arthur's eyes flicked from Francis to Matthew. He was having conflicting thoughts. This could only mean good things for the Frenchman. That is if Arthur picked a more favorable option.

Francis stumbled again as he was pushed back. Arthur swore under his breath and stared him down. Of course he knew the risks that defying Ivan brought. But if he could just do this one thing, he and his family would be set. They could live in peace. A home in the Michigan Territory wouldn't cost much. It was even possible to buy out rooms for the three of them across from Beilschmidt's. Matthew could be close to Gilbert. Alfred could work with the brothers. Their lives would be the closest to perfect they would ever get.

The Frenchman watched uneasily as Arthur deliberated, looking torn between murder and risk. When he lifted his gun again and stepped towards him Francis' stomach dropped but he didn't move. He had dignity, and would rather die with it. But the shorter man didn't shoot. Arthur only pressed his chest against Francis', gun held up but not pointed, finger only hovering menacingly above the trigger.

"You're on thin ice Frenchy. Listen now and listen good. I'm going to do this. Not for you, because I don't give a single fuck about what happens after we get to New York. I'm doing this for my family. And I swear to God if things get bad I will put a bullet in your leg and I will haul your ass to Ivan quicker than it takes you to scream." Arthur growled, looking much too menacing for being so young.

Francis cleared his throat and took a deep breath. He was in control. In some capacity at least. "Well then, let's try not to get caught. Oui?"

Arthur lowered his gun and backed off. He turned away without saying anything. Francis stood still for a few moments, only sighing when the boy Arthur called Matthew approached him. He didn't say anything. But he motioned for Francis to follow him into the house. An uneasiness that Francis didn't know was there lifted, and he crossed the threshold of the house feeling safer and more grounded than he had in in a while.

The inside of the house was clean, but almost empty. It didn't look old but it gave off the feeling of age. Like it had seen far too much tragedy in it's short life and now was only an empty shell devoid of any soul. Arthur stood in the middle of what looked like a dining room.

Another man stood next to him, looking confused and angry.

"Boys." Arthur started, "I'm going to be going on an assignment."

"You're not seriously going to fucking do this are you?" The younger man spat, arm swung out towards Francis.

"Watch how you're talking to me Alfred!" Arthur yelled back and turned to fully face the other blond.

"You're going to die! He's wanted by Ivan for fuck's sake! Ivan will kill all of us if he finds out. You're better off leaving him in the Southern Few!"

"That's why he's not going to! I'm not stupid Alfred I know what I'm doing don't talk down to me."

Alfred and Arthur seemed to get progressively closer as they argued. Francis glanced at Matthew but it looked like he knew better than to get into this situation.

"And what if everything goes wrong? What if you run into another hunter? You're not invincible!"

"God damnit Alfred nothing is going to go wrong! I'm doing this for us! Stop arguing with me about this!"

Alfred stepped back slightly and threw his arms up. "Oh for us? This isn't going to end well and you know it! What happens when Ivan does find out huh? You're dead! Then who's he gonna come after? Matt and I will be running for our lives and what are you going to do for us then? Answer me Art! You'll be as much good to us as Mo-"

Arthur reached out and grabbed Alfred by his collar, bringing their noses inches apart. "I swear to God Alfred I'm going to...

Arthur stopped. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then he let Alfred go. The younger man just glared back.

"Just go. I'm not going to do this with you right now." Arthur said more calmly, waving Alfred off.

Alfred looked shocked, then hurt. "Whatever." He said before pushing past Francis and leaving.

The room was quiet and Arthur stood in the middle of it pinching the bridge of his nose. If words were heavy silence must be heavier. There was a sense that this had become a common occurrence between the two and if it crushed Francis, what Matthew must have been feeling would be much more intense.

"Matthew." Arthur finally spoke.

"Yeah?"

Arthur walked towards the two. "I'm going to take a shower. Turn on the generator and see if you can make anything for dinner while I do that."

Matthew nodded in response and watched his cousin walk past them towards the bathroom. He seemed hesitant about something, but before Arthur could close the door he'd decided.

"Hey, Arthur?" He started, and waited until the other had turned around to look at him. "I... I love you."

The look on his face completely changed. He had seemed so conveniently distant the whole time Francis had the privilege of knowing him. Arthur acted like the rough world had polished off any flaws, but he was still human after all. Arthur looked at Matthew gently, almost as if he could cry should anything else be said.

"I know. I know you do Matt. I love you too." Arthur replied quietly and retreated into the bathroom.

Matthew took a deep breath and sighed. "Francis right?"

"The one and only."

"Well I'm going to start the generator. You can make yourself comfortable." Matthew, though more than likely only a couple years younger than himself, gave Francis the impression he was the cutest little kid ever. Constant politeness and forever merciful.

Despite the fact he had been offered free reign Francis felt no urge to do much of anything until Matthew returned. Despite it being rude to just root through anothers home he was out of his element. To be transparent, Arthur's home was certainly the poorest he'd ever been in. The floor was bare wood and the walls were also bare save for spots of drywall mud stark white against the slight grey of the drywall itself.

When Matthew returned Francis had decided to follow him to save any free will decisions until after Arthur had calmed down. At least then his chances of being shot were lowered slightly. The kitchen was better. The stone tile floor was plain but a step up from wood. The only working appliances were a stove and a microwave. The fridge had no doors, presumably ripped off for the convenience of storage space. Matthew started grabbing items from the shelf and Francis carefully sat down on one of the bar stools lined along a kitchen island.

"So, were you with Arthur when he went up North?" Matthew asked casually, opening a drawer and pulling out a large knife.

"I was. I met the lovely Feliciano. The brothers too." Francis followed the conversation just for the sake of keeping silence at bay. "I also heard about Gilbert and yourself. If it's not too rude to ask, how did that come to be?"

The smile on Matthew's face grew and softened. Much like how Feliciano's had when he saw Ludwig. "It's not too complicated honestly. Arthur was on an assignment and had sprained his ankle. He couldn't walk that well and he happened across Gilbert at a medical center. What for I can't really remember." Matthew trailed off as he tried to dig through his memories, but gave up sooner than he'd started.

"Anyway, Gilbert offered to help Arthur back home. Well, actually he'd demanded Arthur accept his help. But when he got here he insisted on staying for at least a week. It was the middle of winter and the trip back and forth was not fun. Gilbert said he'd stay forever if it meant never seeing snow again. And I don't know... He just kind of wormed his way into the family like he'd always belonged here. He didn't want to leave but Ludwig would probably come down and drag him back if he didn't. Arthur and Ludwig both though it wasn't more than a "crush" if that's what you want to call it. But it's been at least two years and I don't think they expected this." Matthew laughed.

Francis smiled. It sounded almost perfect. "Well, congratulations to the two of you. Not many people could stay in love so far away from each other. Fewer can do it while together."

Francis didn't ask what Matthew was making, and neither of them spoke again until Arthur found his way into the kitchen as well.

"We're going to leave tomorrow. Matthew, I doubt Alfred will come back tonight so take his bed and let Francis have yours." Arthur's tone left no room for argument. Not that either of the other two felt up to it.

At least for now.

_**Authors Note:**_

Ok, I know it's been like, 6 months but this fic is not dead I _swear_. I've worked mostly on writing ahead (3 chapters ahead right now!) and, because I have no idea how to keep ideas in my head for longer than 3 minutes I've started writing down little pieces of a new fic. I'm not working as intensely on it, but it's mostly there for filler when this fic gets boring or I get stuck. I'm not gonna jinx it by talking too much about it but I will say it will be for Free!, and it may or may not have come about by talking to one of my co-workers about being lazy.

I'm also so sorry if this chapter seems a bit jarring or cut up. Between chapters 5-6 I had a bit of trouble finding my style on top of writers block in general. I promise the next couple chapters should be a bit of an improvement. I hope you guys enjoyed none the less!


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